


Caged

by Grumperella



Series: Febuwhump 2021: The Mandalorian Misadventures [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda, Angry Din Djarin, Angst and Feels, BAMF Din Djarin, Canon-Typical Violence, Din goes feral, Don't hurt Mando's baby, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, ManDadlorian, Protective Din Djarin, Sad Grogu | Baby Yoda, you WILL get got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumperella/pseuds/Grumperella
Summary: Febuwhump Prompt Day 3: Imprisonment___Grogu wanders off at a market and gets snatched. Din goes FERAL.(Father/son angst & feels + some fun BAMF!Din violence.)___Takes place between S1 & S2 probably.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: Febuwhump 2021: The Mandalorian Misadventures [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156874
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post from my existing Febuwhump series, because I'm transitioning the multi-chap fit into a series.

The moment Din felt relaxed, he knew something was wrong.

The market they strolled through was colorful and lively. The smells of cooking meats permeated the air while vendors shouted their wares in an amiable fashion into the passing throng of visitors. At first, the kid had been a squirming, wriggling mess, twisting every which way trying to see everything. He’d pulled at Din’s belt, pointing at things, sometimes tapping at his armor to get his attention. The Mandalorian would stop and look, telling the kid what he was seeing, trying his best to be patient with the kid’s excitement. 

Din, for his part, was trying to pay attention to the stalls and what they were selling. They were low on numerous critical supplies, least of which was fresh food. Additionally, he needed to find a new converter for the Crest’s specific model of water filtration system, which wasn’t going to be easy to find. It hadn’t reached a critical point yet, but he’d been keeping his eye out for a while with no luck. This was the fourth market he’d tried while still avoiding more populated worlds. Hopefully fourth time was the charm.

After a little more than an hour of strolling through the long streets of market stalls, the kid had finally settled down, content to watch silently from the bag, letting Din focus on his shopping as he haggled at different vendors, adding more weight to the bags he’d slung over him. 

Now that he thought about it though, the kid had been pretty quiet for a while now, which was unlike him. Maybe he’d dropped off to sleep? Pausing to look down, the Mandalorian swept aside his cloak to look into one of the many sacks at his hip. 

_No._

His blood froze in his veins… the bag was empty.

_Wha- what? How? When?_

Looking up with panic pulsing through him, he searched around him frantically, looking down and twisting around in a sharp circle. Tapping his vambrace as he turned on his tracking overlay.

The world washed into blues with numerous lines of discernible tracks littering the floor in hot red. He tapped to hone in on the tracks he’d now ingrained into his tracking software. Only blue remained.

No sign of the kid. He must have escaped the bag a while back, and with all the other supplies he was carrying, he hadn’t noticed the loss of that small weight. 

_No, no._

Ashamed and furious with himself, Din started retracing his steps back the way he had come, nearly running at first, but soon slowing, so that he could scan every inch of the market side to side as he went.

As concerned as he was with drawing attention to them, this couldn’t go on.

“Kid?!” He shouted into the din of the market street. Heads turned abruptly in surprise, but he ignored them.

“ _Ad’ika_?” He tried again, raising his voice louder, trying to amplify it as far as he could as he walked, still scanning his surroundings. “Kid! Where did you go?”

Turning a corner that they’d rounded a good twenty minutes or so ago, Din kept calling out as he walked. 

_Wait… there!_

Just as his helmet’s HUD picked up the small prints of little tri-digit feet a ways away, he heard a sound that made his heart stop.

The kid screamed. 

Din’s head whipped around in the direction of the shriek, his viewfinder immediately homing and zooming in on a stall about 50 feet away. His blood ran cold, the suffocating fear that had been overriding every thought boiling away into in molten rage.

There, just down the street, was his kid. In a cage. 

_In a cage._

Snarling, Din pulled out his vibro-blade and broke into a sprint towards the stall, seeing the vendor, a large fat human man with a red blotchy face, poking a knife between the bars of the cage at the kid, who was pressing himself as far back as possible. 

Startled shoppers stumbled out of his way and, as if sensing him, the child turned and saw him. Instantly the kid cried out and thrust a little hand through the bars at him, face wet with tears.

“Abah! Bah!” The loud wails shredded through his heart, his lungs burning not from the sprint but from the fury choking him. It felt like the longest ten seconds of his life.

Reaching the stall, Din hurdled it in a single leap, hand closing around the man’s throat as he shoved him back against the wall, away from his kid. One of the man’s hands flew up in surprise, as if to fight the Mandalorian off, but Din skewered the vibro-blade through the man’s hand, pinning it to the wall.

A strangled scream of pain rent the air, which throttled into a gurgling high pitched shriek of panic. More screams echoed around him, shoppers and other vendors shouting at him in surprise and derision.

The man tried to speak but could only get out a strangled, wet gasp. Din loosened his fist infinitesimally. 

“Gah. You- you- you’re _insane_!” The man cried.

“You caged _my kid_.” Din growled at him, his rasping voice made that much more dangerous by the imposing helmet’s voice modulator.

“Wh-what are you,” he gasped breathlessly, “talking about?”

The child whined sadly behind Din, sniffing and weeping as he reached for the man through the bars. Din turned his helmet and twisted to look the kid over, trying to determine if he was hurt.

The man under his grip spluttered.

“Th-that’s your k-kid? I didn’t k-know, Mandalorian, I swear! I swear! S-someone just sold it to me not t-ten minutes ago!” The beskar helmet sharply refocused on the man, who withered under his gaze.

“He.” Din seethed. “He’s not an “it”. And he’s not for sale.”

“B-but what about my lost c-credits!” 

The child whimpered and Din’s fist tightened like a vice around the man’s neck as he twisted the knife still buried in his meaty hand.

The man howled in pain, breaking into choked sobs as the cries of protest around him got louder. People were crying and begging him to let the man go, but he barely heard them.

_He squeezed._

* * *

A soft mewling suddenly broke through the cold, red fury consuming him. Seeing that the man was going to pass out any second, Din promptly let go of the portly neck and yanked his blade out of the man’s hand. The vendor collapsed to the ground, gasping heavily as he leaned back against the wall, cradling his injured hand to his chest, dark red blood oozing out of the wound.

Without another word, Din turned and rushed to the cage, using the vibro-blade to slice clean through narrow bars. Ripping the side off and tossing it aside, the Mandalorian sheathed his blade and reached in with both hands to gently lift the little green and brown bundle, who was still weeping softly, out of the cage.

“Hey, hey, kid, I got you.” He whispered, cradling the little body to his chest, the icy panic that had been clutching his heart finally starting to ease away, “You’re safe now, I got you.”

The kid reached up for him, scrabbling at the cloth at his neck with desperate blubbering sounds as he tried to get closer to the man. Din let him crawl up into his neck, one hand patting his back, the other supporting him.

“I know, _ad’ika_ , I know. This is why I keep telling you not to wander off.”

A sniveling coo sounded from his neck.

“I didn’t mean that,” Din sighed, patting the little back comfortingly and dropping his helmet to rest against the wrinkled head. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, bud.”

A rush of relief washed over him, his pounding heartbeat finally slowing. 

With his ward now safely back in his arms, Din turned his hard beskar gaze to the poor-excuse for a man bleating in pain on the ground.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.” Was all he said by way of apology. Then he strode around the stall, ignoring the mix of curious, angry and terrified glares of the passers-by and neighboring vendors as he left the scene. 

Heading back to the Razor Crest this time, Din kept a firm, soothing hold on the little bundle on his chest.

“It’s okay _ad’ika_. I don’t think we were gonna find that converter here anyway.”


End file.
